Marwencol (Blu-Ray)

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All Rise...

Only parts of Judge Erich Asperschlager are 1/6 scale.

The Charge

"I built Marwencol for me, for my therapy, and now it's, like,
everybody's."

Opening Statement

There are many kinds of documentaries. Some are sprawling, agenda-driven
films about big topics like the environment or labor reform. Others focus on
smaller stories, using the experiences of a few to illustrate basic truths about
humanity. Still others hide the filmmaking process, treating the camera as a
detached observer. Some documentaries, though, are so intimate that they defy
classification—telling a story so personal that watching it feels like an
invasion of someone's private home. Or their fictional town.

Welcome to Marwencol.

Facts of the Case

In April of 2000, Mark Hogancamp was severely beaten by five men outside a
bar in Kingston, NY. The attack put Mark in a coma for nine days, required
reconstructive surgery, and resulted in brain damage so severe that he had no
memories from before the attack. After 40 days, Mark was released from the
hospital, with enough assistance to regain his ability to speak and write, but
not to cope with the trauma. So Mark devised his own therapy.

He constructed a 1/6-scale, WWII-era Belgian town he called Marwencol. He
populated it with dolls dressed in period costumes and uniforms, and named them
after people he knew. The town and its inhabitants were his refuge—a place
where he could write, act out, and photograph a narrative where his doll was a
heroic soldier, and where sadistic SS met the kind of retribution Mark couldn't
inflict on his attackers in the real world. It stayed Mark's personal project
until the day a local photographer saw his pictures and shared them with a
magazine editor friend. The meeting led to a New York gallery exhibition of
Mark's work, pushing him out of his backyard and into the public eye.

The Evidence

Mark Hogancamp's story is heartbreaking. Whatever success he's had in the art
world, his characters and their adventures are fiercely personal. Marwencol is
the extension of his damaged mind—a private diary made of plastic, wood,
and dirt. Although the photographs he takes of his town are beautiful, it's
nothing compared to the story behind them.

That story isn't simple to understand or explain. Director Jeff Malmberg
gives Hogancamp full rein to talk about his life. Since Mark is still putting
the pieces together for himself, Marwencol takes a meandering route
through his story. Although the film is divided into sections, there's no real
narrative apart from the attack at the beginning, and Mark's Manhattan art show
at the end. The rest is mostly footage of Mark at home and working on his town,
interspersed with interview fragments and photographs.

Every once in a while, Malmberg stumbles on some nugget that transcends the
routine of Mark's life—aspects of his story that beg for more screentime.
We learn that the attack not only left Mark unable to remember what happened
before he was hospitalized (reducing his first marriage, for instance, to a
stack of snapshots taken on his wedding day) but also that he went from
clinically depressed alcoholic before to teetotaler after. We hear briefly about
the healthcare system that failed Mark, prematurely cutting him loose and
forcing him to create his own kind of therapy. We see a brief montage of the
tortured pictures Mark drew in the years before the attack, but no one relates
Mark's early art to his Marwencol photographs. There are interviews with Mark's
friends, mom, coworker, a former roommate, and a woman he had a crush on whose
rebuff led him to kill off her Marwencol counterpart. But don't expect Malmberg
to spend any time exploring those relationships. His focus is on Marwencol and
its creator, with little interest in answering questions that come up along the
way.

Marwencol is artfully made. Malmberg approximates living in Mark's
shoes by jumping from one topic to the next, lazily circling until he gets to
the heart of Mark's story. There are no easy answers or pat narrative. Malmberg
puts all of his filmmaking eggs in Mark's frayed basket. The result is
engrossing and fragmented. Marwencol is a unique film experience, but
it's only a peek into Mark's world. My guess is he'd probably want it that
way.

Marwencol is a mixed bag on Blu-ray. The bulk of the footage was shot
using a low-quality handheld video camera. It does what it needs to, but the
soft image isn't even DVD quality. You'll be happy to have the added resolution,
though, during the montages of Mark's photographs. They really are amazing, and
Blu-ray brings all their miniature detail and vivid color to life. It seems odd
to recommend a Blu-ray for still photos, but Marwencol is that kind of
movie. The DTS-HD 2.0 Master Audio track isn't a powerhouse, but it delivers the
dialogue and period music soundtrack in a mix that's well-balanced and
crisp.

If Marwencol left you wanting, there's plenty more in the bonus
features:

• The longest is a collection of deleted scenes (19:02),
seventeen in all. Given how short the movie is, I'm not sure why these were
taken out. They provide lots of good detail and anecdotes, including information
about Mark's reconstructive surgery, his meeting with the woman who found him
after the attack, and the story of how Marwencol got its name.

Also included with the Blu-ray are a written introduction to the film by
critic Elvis Mitchell that's more about his friend Malmberg than Hogancamp; and
a collectible mini-print of one of Mark's photographs.

Closing Statement

Jeff Malmberg is a talented filmmaker and editor, but Marwencol works
often in spite of his style. Although the film ignores some of the most
interesting aspects of Mark Hogancamp's story, what Malmberg shows us is still
well worth watching. The victim of a brutal attack, Mark brought himself back
with a most unique art therapy. That we get to share the results of that therapy
with him is a great gift, and one that should be treasured.